Page 21 of Trip

Before I could answer, Trip grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Oh, C.C. and I go way back. Don’t we, Slick? She’s quite unforgettable.”

My mother gasped, her hand flying to her chest as though Trip’s words carried scandalous weight. Auntie Gail, meanwhile, looked between us with the kind of intrigue usually reserved for soap operas. Uncle John, bless him, just kept sipping his drink, clearly not wanting to meddle.

“Is that right?” Rome’s voice dripped with suspicion as he looked from me to Trip, his protective instincts practically radiating off him in waves.

“We met at the track. You already know he’s replacing Mitch,” I muttered, crossing my arms as I leaned against the doorframe and smirked at the asshole. “Let’s just say, my first impression of him was sorely lacking.”

“Lacking, huh?” Trip chuckled, a low, infuriating sound that seemed to rattle my very bones. “Let me see what I can do about that, Slick.”

“Never gonna happen, asshole,” I snapped back, unable to stop myself.

“Cosette,” my mother interjected, her tone laced with warning, “we have company. Be polite.”

I plastered on the most sarcastic smile I could muster. “Of course, Mother. I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you in front of your... esteemed guest.”

Trip’s eyes glinted with amusement, clearly enjoying my thinly veiled hostility. “I see your charm is still as sharp as ever.”

I ignored him, turning to my mother instead. “Are we eating soon? I’d hate for this thrilling reunion to delay dinner.”

Rome snorted into his drink, Auntie Gail stifled a laugh, and Trip... well, Trip just kept smiling, the smug bastard.

Dinner was an event in the Dubois house, and tonight was no different. My mother went all out and with guests in attendance, she was truly in her element. And true to her Southern upbringing, my mother left nothing to chance. A large bouquet of flowers sat dead center on the beautifully set dining room table. The crystal chandelier above the table sparkled, reflecting the warm glow of the candles that adorned the table. Soft jazz music played in the background, setting a relaxed and elegant ambiance. Family, minus one obnoxious guest, chatted animatedly as they enjoyed the first course, a delicate salad of organic greens and herbs from my mother’s garden. As the main course was served, the conversation flowed effortlessly, ranging from light-hearted gossip to funny family times of long-ago summers.

My mother, a graceful and elegant woman, kept everyone’s glasses full and made sure the food was to their liking. She wore a soft smile as she listened to the lively conversations, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of pride and contentment. She always filled the DuBois house with life and laughter when she played hostess, and tonight perfectly showed her hospitality and attention to detail.

As the dinner progressed, the guests indulged in a rich and decadent chocolate soufflé, my mother’s signature dessert. The room buzzed with satisfied murmurs and compliments directed at my mother, who beamed with pleasure. It was clear that, once again, she had succeeded in creating a memorable evening for the family, and the DuBois household had lived up to its reputation for warmth and Southern charm.

“We need to talk, Slick,” Trip said, leaning close to me, so only I would hear.

Reaching for my water glass, I muttered, “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“Good, then you can listen.”

Before I could come up with a witty retort, my mother asked, “Trip, do you have any family?”

All conversation stopped as all eyes looked at him. Clearing his voice, he sat up straighter and said, “Yes, ma’am. A sister. She lives in Rosewood, Virginia.”

“And your parents?”

And just like that, his body stiffened.

Trip hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting to my mother, then to me. The room’s warmth seemed to waver as tension silently unfurled itself among the guests. “They passed a few years ago,” he finally said, his voice subdued but edged with an emotion he couldn’t hide.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” my mother replied softly, her Southern grace unyielding even in moments of discomfort. “Family is everything, isn’t it?”

Trip nodded, his gaze dropping to the table as if studying the intricate pattern on the tablecloth. “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

The conversation gently shifted again, my mother expertly steering it towards lighter topics about her garden and plans for the upcoming summer. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Trip’s words carried a weight that would linger long after the evening dissipated into memories.

As the family transitioned from the dining room to the parlor, laughter and conversation began to fill the air once more. The night seemed back on track, but my mind couldn’t move past the exchange at the dinner table. Trip’s demeanor spoke volumes, though he tried his best to conceal it.

Before I could escape to the solace of my room, he cornered me again, his expression now hardened with resolve. “We’re notdone, Slick,” he muttered. “You’ll hear me out, even if you don’t want to.”

Knowing he wouldn’t let this go, I nodded, then turned to my mom. “I’m going to show Trip the garden.”

And just like I knew she would, my mother waved me off, returning to her conversation with my auntie Gail.

Chapter Nine

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